I hate mirrors.
Stars, why does every bedroom have one? The one in this room is the shape of a tombstone, just as wide as the mattress and directly facing the bed.
‘Whose body is it?’ Christian’s voice asks again, unrelenting. ‘Aren’t you getting a bit carried away?’
Nausea seems to be reaching up from my guts to squeeze my stomach together and the pain in my body feels far away as I drag my knees to my chest and run my hands through my hair.
He’s right. I crossed the line, didn’t I?
‘I'm so glad I met you, Christian.’Reuben's voice in my head makes me dig my fingers into my scalp until it hurts. Until the pain is fiercely tugging on the reins of my racing heart.
But you never met Christian Adler, Reuben.
The person you keep watching… he’s not real.
Reuben—Reuben isn’t attracted tome. He’s attracted to Christian.
Am I taking over Christian’s life?
Aren’t I taking what belongs to him?
That wasn’t how this was supposed to go. My goal is to offer up my achievements to him, notreplacehim.
Why?Why did I allow myself to get tangled up with Reuben?
‘Do you like me?’Reuben's voice is there again and I'm digging my fingers deeper.
There's a roar in my ears. Is it my thoughts? My heartbeat?
Ilike him. I like Reuben… without a shadow of a doubt. I don’t even know when it started.
But the Christian I've created, it’s not me… and it’s not the Christian from my memories. It’s some—disgusting amalgamation I've created. An avatar that doesn't exist.
I take deep breaths as I try to fight the nausea. Try to lessen my grip on my hair. Try to breathe oxygen into my lungs.
A crazed chuckle bubbles up from my lips. It spills into soft laughter that bounces around the room… before I’m clenching my teeth together—so tightly it feels like they’ll crack. I slap my cheek sharply, and the sound finally silences my thoughts. It starts up a ringing in my ears.
Get it together.I glare at the reflection in the mirror.
Don't lose focus. This doesn't change anything.
This existence of mine... its purpose hasn't changed.
I am Christian Adler.
And I am myself.
Whatever feelings we have for Reuben are secondary… and whatever feelings he has for us...
Is simply his misfortune.
I'm having trouble trying to determine if this is some kind of penthouse or hotel suite. Not that I've ever been in either, but why does it have to be socold? The temperature is raising the hairs on my skin. Not to mention, I woke up in clothes that smell like Reuben—a big, white shirt and sweats with no boxers to be found.
I step out of the hallway that leads away from the bedroom and into a wide area. There’s a lavish kitchen and a bar counter on one side, and a living room with large couches and a massive television on the other side.
Reuben is standing in the kitchen, with his back turned to me. He's in new clothes too, a long-sleeved black tee and sweats, with a damp towel around his neck and I find myself swallowing with new... ‘butterflies’.
His black hair is released from his usual updo, and the wet strands are falling across his neck for the first time. I have to steel myself first and beat the butterflies into submission before stepping into the space, “Did you bathe me?”
